This seemed an excellent reason to me for calling off the whole thing, but Kraftstein said in his ponderous way that he could attend to them; he had a salve which could disguise their pinkness and make them look like old wounds. This seemed to satisfy Bismarck, for he grunted and turned to Rudi.

“Otherwise he is ready? He can play the part? Your head depends on this, remember.”

“His highness is ready to resume his duties,” says Rudi.

Bismarck snorted. “His highness! He is an actor, hired to play a part. Better he should remember that, and the consequences of missing a cue—he’ll be less liable to bungle it. Oh, yes, Bersonin, I know all about your theories; I prefer realities. And the reality of this, Mr Flashman, is that tomorrow you leave for Strackenz. You know what is to do, the reward of success—and the price of failure.” His cold eyes played over me. “Are you dismayed?”

“Oh, no,” says I. “When it’s all over I intend to go back to England and take the place of Prince Albert, don’t you know.”

Rudi laughed, but I saw Kraftstein shake his head—no doubt he was thinking that I didn’t look enough like Prince Albert to get away with it.

“Sit down,” says Bismarck. “Give him a brandy, de Gautet.” He came to stand at the table head, looking down at me. “Listen to me carefully. When you leave here tomorrow you will be accompanied by Freiherr von Starnberg and de Gautet. They will take you by coach to the rendezvous we have appointed—you need to know nothing more than that it is a country mansion owned by a nobleman who is to play host to Prince Carl Gustaf for one night during his journey to Strackenz. The journey to the house will take two days, but we are allowing three, for safety.

“On the appointed day Carl Gustaf and his retinue will arrive at the mansion in the afternoon. It stands in wooded country, but is easily accessible; you will be waiting for evening, and when it comes von Starnberg and de Gautet will take you into the grounds under cover of darkness. You will be admitted by a man who is one of the only three in the world, outside this room, who is in our plot. His name is Detchard, a Danish minister entirely faithful to me. He will conduct you secretly to the Prince’s apartment; in the meantime von Starnberg will be effecting the…removal of the real Prince. Have I made myself clear so far?”

By God he had, and as I listened all my old fears came galloping back with a vengeance. The thing was obvious lunacy, and this outrageous creature standing so straight and immaculate in his greatcoat, was a dangerous maniac.

“But…but, look here,” I began, “suppose something goes wrong—I mean, suppose somebody comes….”